38. Chapter 37 #2
“Huh?” That probably wasn’t the word he was expecting her to say.
“Spell,” she said again, a smile stretching across her face. “We haven’t tried memory spells yet. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. From my research in the past, they’re a little tricky to get right, but maybe it’ll be easier with our bond.”
His eyes cleared as the thick energy between them faded, though it never truly went away anymore. “Well, seems like my plan worked. Ready to go back to the much more boring books?”
Back on the other side of the library, Ivy leaned against the windowsill.
Ezra stood in front of her, scanning over the text for the spell for at least the tenth time.
It was one of the more basic charms used to stimulate different areas of the brain to retrieve seconds of certain memories.
The hitch was that someone else had to cast the spell.
“I don’t know about this,” he muttered, flipping back to the spell’s first page. “What if something goes wrong and I wipe more of your memory?”
“You won’t.” She grabbed the book from him and placed it on the desk next to them. “Besides, our magic probably wouldn’t allow us to hurt each other.”
He smirked, his dimple reappearing to distract her. “Now who’s playing with magic they’re not absolutely sure how it works?”
She shrugged playfully, leaning forward close to him. “Maybe you’re rubbing on me—” her eyes widened, heat blazing across her face at the slip of a word—“off, rubbing off on me.”
Before she averted her gaze, his tongue swept across his bottom lip before he bit back a husky laugh. “Maybe I am, snapdragon.”
“I could always get someone else to help me,” she blurted, shifting off the windowsill. It was probably for the best, since she had just thoroughly embarrassed herself.
“No.” He grabbed her hand gently and stepped closer, keeping her from moving. “I want to.”
She nodded once, letting him know she was ready.
He took a deep breath, and she watched the rise and fall of his chest until his hand brushed along the length of her arm.
Her sleeves might as well not have been there because it was as though he were touching her bare skin.
Once he reached her neck, flames erupted inside, and she stopped breathing for a moment.
His palm moved gently to her cheek, his fingers diving into her hair to cradle her head.
She exhaled shakily as his other hand came to rest on the other side.
Whatever tension had faded between them back in the fiction section came rushing back, and she gripped the windowsill for support as her knees buckled.
His thumb brushed a gentle circle against her temple, his gaze drifting from place to place over her face before finally meeting her own. “You’re sure you’re ready?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, and closed her eyes.
Since it was a simple spell, no words or chants were required.
A person only had to picture something related to the memory—a feeling, a date, an object—then let the magic flow through the other to bring the memory to the surface.
She’d hoped that with their magic bonded, the spell would be stronger or last longer.
A moment later, the familiar slide of silk wrapped around her and caressed her mind.
Her vision flashed to white, fading the edges of the library to make way for a dark forest to settle in.
The same forest on that night. Ahead of her was the clearing, and upon getting closer, she saw herself and Briar standing in the circle of stones.
Ivy paused for a moment. It was odd to see herself outside her own body.
“It will only sting for a minute,” Briar said. Her voice was a much higher pitch when they were younger. Her cheeks and nose were still soft from childhood. It was strange to see it all so vividly again. “I’ll go first.”
Briar brought the pocketknife she stole from her father to her palm and dragged the blade across it. She hissed as blood flooded from the wound. “Oh God, that’s a lot,” young Ivy said.
“Shit,” Briar cursed, pulling the knife away and clenching her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, but a moment later, opened them again and turned her pained stare to her partner. “Your turn, Ives.”
She watched as her younger self held her hand to her chest. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me I’m bleeding out for nothing here,” Briar said, her voice sharp. “Remember what we’re doing this for.”
“I know, I know,” Ivy muttered. “Protection. For each other.”
“Exactly.” Briar pointed the knife toward her. “Hold out your hand.”
She stretched her hand out to Briar, her palm trembled so furiously Briar had to take hold of it, getting blood on her skin.
“Take a deep breath.”
When her younger self inhaled, so did she.
She watched the knife press against her younger self’s palm, and she could almost feel the warm, slick blade’s point against her skin.
Briar dragged the blade, and Ivy, both memory and real, cried out in pain.
She gaped at her own hand where her scar was being sliced open and blood trickled down her fingers.
Her vision flashed again. The woods, Briar, her younger self, all faded away, and she returned to the library. Her eyes shot open, taking a sharp breath as she darted back to her hand. But the scar was the same. No blood in sight.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Ezra asked, bringing her attention back to him.
“It worked.”